


new normal

by noodlevault



Category: Entry Point (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Expansion, im genuinely so sorry for writing this fic, its really really fucking sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27805741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlevault/pseuds/noodlevault
Summary: After the events of Entry Point, Jackdaw and Sparrow are left alive. Jackdaw thinks it would have been better if he had just died.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	1. can you wake up again, for me?

**Author's Note:**

> hey! before we get into this angst fest this is basically my sparrow and jackdaw aftermath one-shots in chronological order, BUT i added a brand new one that i wont post separate (hence why this collection was made). if you're looking for that, it's on chapter 3. have fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofia tries to help the best she can.

The curtains are drawn, letting the harsh daylight in.

“Jack.”

He stays silent and unmoving on the bare mattress. 

“Jack, I made breakfast.”

He doesn’t have the energy to respond, even though he’s been in bed for days. The only movement comes from him shifting his arm further over his eyes, blocking out the light.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten something?”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he’s completely lost his appetite, so he stays silent. The thought of food hadn’t crossed his mind ever since he isolated himself in his room.

“Have you had anything to drink? Anything at all?”

At the mention of drinks, he realizes how dehydrated he is. His mouth is uncomfortably dry and his lips are chapped. The dull headache thrums in the back of his skull.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been until the mattress sinks next to him, and his arm is gently lifted off his head.

“Sit up, I brought you water.”

He slowly opens his eyes, taking a while to adjust to the light. In front of him, Sofia sits on the bed with a glass of water in hand. And slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to shift, sitting up against the bed frame.

She tentatively hands the glass to him, and he starts to drink.

“Can you help me unpack a little today? There’s not much, really. We just need to get the little things like utensils and dishes onto the shelves. Then we’ll be finished with moving.”

He continues drinking and nods his head. 

“Can you also come to the store with me today? So you can have a breath of fresh air?”

“Okay.” He finally speaks, finishing the glass. His voice is hoarse and scratchy.

“Come on now. The eggs are getting cold.” Sofia gets up, leaving the door to Jack’s room open. Jack slowly gets up, following her into the kitchen where a dining table is set up. He hasn’t set foot outside his room for a day or two.

The place isn’t such a mess of boxes anymore. Sofia must have unpacked a lot while he was in his lifeless episode. 

She pulls out a chair next to him, and they sit down at the table. Sofia pushes a plate of eggs in front of him, handing him a fork.

“Get some food in you, Jack.” She sighs, digging her fork in her own plate of eggs.

“Okay.”

He slowly starts to eat. They sit in silence. 

The quieter it gets, the louder Jack’s thoughts seem to churn in his head. Faces of operatives he never got the name of. A photo of an operative’s family on their desk. Stifled crying he pretended not to hear coming from the barracks. He shakes his head, focusing on the plate in front of him. It’s cleaned off.

“Let’s unpack the last few boxes now.”

He gets up, following her to the kitchen. She passes him a box to go through.

“Those are the utensils and glasses. I’ll take care of the bowls and plates.”

He opens the box, picking each glass out, one by one. It’s a good distraction- mindlessly sorting objects takes his mind off things.

In the middle of sorting, Sofia accidentally drops a plate- the noise of it shattering violently breaking the silence. Jack whips around at the sudden noise, reaching for a gun that isn’t there.

“GAH-”

He doesn’t know when he ended up on the floor. His eyes are shut tightly, but his mind takes the opportunity to torture him.

The flashback is so vivid, the noise of the dropped plate morphing into the gunshot he heard on his last call with Rachael. He was back in the dark comms room, clutching the phone with an iron grip as he tried to register what just occurred. 

Ja… Ja… Jack…

Rachael’s struggling breaths repeat endlessly in his head.

She’s dead.

Her killer adds on to the cloud of voices.

We’ll dump her in Eerie.

He feels like he’s drowning with her, unable to breathe. Images of a red-haired corpse sinking to the lake bed fill his mind, an ugly visualization of the phone conversation that stays engraved into his memory.

Jack…

Rachael’s voice haunts him.

Jack!

He’s hyperventilating, chest heaving with every short breath.

“Jack, please, listen to me. You’re having a flashback.” Sofia’s voice reminds him that he’s in the present. Her voice wavers slightly, but she’s trying to keep it as calm as possible.

“Focus on your breathing.”

He opens his eyes again. Sofia keeps her distance from him, but she sits at his level. Sweat beads on his forehead. 

It’s difficult, but he gets his breathing even again. He takes deep breaths, grounding himself to the present. The voices and visions start to go away.

“We should get you moving, it’ll help you clear your head. Do you want to go to the store now?” Sofia asks, getting up.

He nods.

“You should get changed. I can help with your hair.”

He nods again, slowly rising and making his way to his room. He hasn’t changed from the cargo shorts and tank top that he had on when he first made the trip to their new home. So he fishes in his dresser until he finds a black long sleeve and jeans since it was rather chilly at this time of year. But at the bottom of the dresser, he feels a leathery texture and pulls it out.

He finds his old eyepatch sitting in his palm. Multiple emotions go through him at once. Mostly self-loathing.

He ends up snapping it in half and burying it in the trash bin before another flashback can set in, swiftly leaving his room afterward to find Sofia. She greets him and sits him in front of a mirror as she combs through his nest of hair.

As she tugs the brush through the knots, he glances over at her in the mirror. The once bright blue coloring on her hair has faded into a bluish brown. Her bright and active demeanor is nowhere to be seen ever since the organization was disbanded. 

“Are you okay with a bun?”

“Sure.”

He feels his hair pulled back and tied into a bun with a hair tie she has in hand. She brushes the stray strands of hair out of his face with her fingers, tucking them behind his ears.

“I’ll order a prosthetic eye fitting for you when you’re ready, but for now we have to make do with these.” Sofia opens a cardboard box of medical eye patches, fishing one out. She presses the cotton patch over his empty eye, fixing it in place with tape.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, looking at his reflection. He looks clean and put-together; nothing gives away who he once was.

“No problem.”

She gets up, grabbing her backpack that sports a small texas-shaped keychain dangling from the zipper. She motions for Jack to follow her, and they leave the house together. The ground is damp from recent rain, and the air is cold and crisp. Sofia was right, it helped clear Jack’s mind for a little while.

They walk to the convenience store, enjoying mutual silence. Not many people are out and about in this weather, so the convenience store is less crowded- thankfully.

“What kind of cereal do you like?” Sofia asks as they reach the food selection, rolling their little cart with them.

“I don’t… I don’t really have a favorite.”

“Alright.” She puts two boxes of Lucky Charms in the cart.

“You should uh, get something healthier.”

“There’s my old man. It’s been a while.” She giggles softly, putting the boxes back on the shelf and replacing them with corn flakes.

They continue down the aisles. Jack lets Sofia do all the shopping. 

“Do you want to get bedsheets for that mattress of yours?” Sofia looks over at him as they enter another aisle.

“I- I don’t like sleeping with anything on me.”

“Don’t you get cold?”

The temperature was far from why he despised quilts or comforters. Ever since Ember Shroud, having a sheet or blanket over him when lying down made him feel trapped, reminding him of the burning rubble pinning him to the ground as he slowly lost consciousness. But nothing comes out when he opens his mouth to explain.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me.” Sofia continues pushing the cart, “Let’s just grab a few more things and go home.”

He carries most of the grocery bags on their walk home, already feeling drained from their small outing. Socialization would need some work.

“Can you tell me why you’re so tense all of a sudden?” Sofia asks softly.

He didn’t even notice that he’s checking over his shoulder every other minute, scanning every nook and cranny to find someone, anyone that wasn’t there.

“You’re not on the field anymore. Nobody is out to get you. You’re safe.”

He stays silent, continuing to look around.

“Jack, you have to trust me.”

She’s an informant. Halcyon is back. They’re paying her to keep tabs on you. She’s going to kill you.

Jack stares at her, eyes glazed over. His hands tremble slightly as the paranoia returns.

You can’t be vulnerable around her. She’s waiting for the chance to kill you.

He starts walking faster, reaching their door before she does. He enters, slamming the door behind him and twisting the lock shut.

“JACK! JACK!!” Sofia yells behind the door, trying the handle. The door doesn’t budge.

She’s a spy. Don’t let her get to you.

He drops the grocery bags on the floor, sinking to the ground. 

“JACK, PLEASE!”

She’ll kill you. You’ll die when she gets in.

He threads his hands through his hair, gripping his scalp. He wanted the thoughts gone. He wishes he could unplug them somehow.

“Jack…” Sofia’s voice is quieter this time. She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears.

You’re putting yourself in danger. Don’t open it. Don’t. If you open it, you’re going to have to fight for your life.

He twists the lock on the door after a few minutes of silence.

It opens gently, and Sofia steps in. In her hands are grocery bags, not loaded guns.

“Jack… Please... What can I do to help you?” Her voice quivers.

“I don’t- I don’t want to hurt you, kiddo. I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.” He gets the sentence out through uneven breaths, head buried in his hands, “Please, just leave me alone. For your own damn good.”

Sofia stays frozen, watching him as he shakily gets up, returning to his room.

And as he closes the bedroom door behind him, locking it, he swears he can hear her crying from a few rooms over.

Why did he make it out alive? 

It would be so much easier if he was dead in a ditch somewhere, not dealing with his broken mind daily and having to deteriorate right in front of Sofia’s eyes.

He gently removes the hair tie that she put in his locks, setting it down on the bedside dresser. He goes to close the blinds once more, laying down on his bare mattress. 

He didn’t know how long he’d sleep for this time around. But a part of him hoped he wouldn’t wake up again.


	2. she wouldn't want this for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackdaw visits a pond.

He couldn't remember how long it had been.

How long since the assassinations, how long since the shadow war, how long since the bombings, how long since he shot his worst enemy in his own home.

His reflection in the pond water mocked him. He looked normal. The scars that trailed down his arms from years of fighting were concealed by the sweatshirt he wore. Instead of the leather eyepatch that he fashioned for himself all those years ago, a prosthetic eye was in its place. He had no ammunition vest and no gun on his belt, and he couldn't help feeling vulnerable. He constantly felt as if his life was in danger as if an operative from the organization that disappeared a year ago would strike him at any moment. 

He didn't know why he thought he could live life normally. It wasn't an issue of hiding a criminal record or coming up with a fake identity, that could be done easily. The issue was that he forgot what living normally felt like. What was it like, to not think you wouldn't make it to tomorrow? To not purposely distance yourself from comrades so you wouldn't be emotionally crippled after their death?

A small splash in the water brings him back to reality. Beside him, Sofia skips rocks across the surface of the water. She carefully picks the rocks out, tossing another flat rock across the surface. It skips four times before sinking.

A pang of guilt hits Jack suddenly. Why did he rope her into the shadow war? She was a kid, fresh out of boot camp. Jack was sure she had ambitions separate from a life of crime. It was selfish of him to get her involved, just so he had an asset to get his operatives out of trouble. She was almost killed, too. He still remembers flooring it to get to the site of the helicopter crash, dragging her unconscious body out of the wreck, yelling at the other operatives accompanying him to get her medical attention. It was a miracle that she survived, but even then only two weeks later she was back on the field. He still wonders where she would be if it wasn't for his interference. Maybe she'd be a respected member of the air force by now. Maybe she'd be somewhere that wasn't a pond in the middle of nowhere, skipping rocks while she waits for her old man to bring her back home. 

It was pathetic, really.

He couldn't move on. He could never move on. 

He remembers telling the last few Phoenix operatives that it was time to go home after the bombing of the Halcyon base. Many of them had nowhere to go back to. But he turned his back to them, leaving with Sofia in tow in search of a new life. 

He was a terrible person.

No matter what anyone told him, he knew he was an awful human being. He carried the blood of innocents on his hands wherever he went. It was like an ugly stain on a shirt that could never go away, no matter how much you scrubbed it. No matter how much you clawed at it. No matter how many nights of sleep you have lost over it.

Self-loathing wouldn't bring Rose back. Self-loathing wouldn't bring the Freelancer back. Self-loathing wouldn't return the innocent civilians killed in the crossfire back to their families. But he despised himself anyway.

He made many mistakes in his life. He knew he was the one responsible for them. The reflection in the water didn't depict a monster. It didn't depict a murderer. It depicted an everyday old man; a functioning member of society. And that's what he hated about it.

Without thinking, his hand splashed in the water, dissipating the reflection.

Sofia looked over to him. She set down the flat stone she had in her hand gently on the grass, getting up.

"Jack..." Her voice was quiet, barely carried over in the cold, empty air. 

He looked up at her.

"I know you're doing it again." She whispered again.

He looked back down to his reflection. He looked tired and helpless, like a street dog begging for food from a passerby. Sparrow sat down next to him.

"We left the memorial behind for a reason, Jack. But you went ahead decided to make this pond a new one. I know you miss them. I do too. But Rose wouldn't-"

"STOP SAYING ROSE WOULDN'T WANT THIS FOR ME! STOP IT! I HATE THAT PHRASE!"

His sudden yelling took Sofia by surprise. She looked down, now silent. She didn't want to speak anymore.

"Wait, no, I'm so sorry kiddo, I didn't mean to-" His voice cracked, and he covered his mouth. He couldn't control the stubborn tears running down his face, clouding his vision. It was the first time he had cried in ages. But suddenly now, he couldn't suppress it.

He felt arms wrap around him, and he let himself be comforted. It was ironic, really. He was supposed to be the one staying strong for Sofia's sake. But he hasn't been. He hasn't been for a while. They had been living 'normally' for a few months now, but every single day Jack was lifeless. He wasn't present for Sofia. She often had to get him out of bed, make him eat, make him go outside. Without war, he was nothing. A husk of what was once a ruthless assassin. 

"You need to learn how to be human again, Jack. I know it's hard. I know you've spent more time fighting than I have. But at least try, okay? You can't just... leave me like that. I know you're in there somewhere." Sofia murmurs into his ear, head buried in his shoulder, still clutching him and rocking him back and forth ever so slightly.

Jack, for the first time in ages, lets himself be vulnerable. He lets himself be comforted, not pushing her away, or suppressing his tears.

"I'll try for you, alright kiddo? I'll try." He choked out.

"You better. Don't ever shut down like that ever again." Sofia's own voice wavered slightly.

The walk back from the pond was quiet, and Jack knew Sofia wouldn't let him come back to the pond again. Because it was time to move on.


	3. lost cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackdaw doesn't know why he did it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heed the major character death tag

Every time Jack closed his eyes, his broken mind took the opportunity to torment him. Some nights were worse than others. They could range from the rare dreams to full on night terrors, where he would wake up screaming and drenched in sweat. 

The night terrors always consisted of ugly events from his past, accompanied by pain that wasn’t real. But they always felt so real, like Jack was reliving the event before his very own eyes, and that’s what he hated about it. And in every single terror, Mason Wolfe would be there, mocking him. His former boss would be by the other man’s side, showing Jack how much power he had over him as his nightmares played out. Even in death, Mason had Jack under his thumb. 

Sofia had always tried to help him. When Jack woke up during a night terror, the young woman would enter his room and be by his side. Sometimes, she would stroke his hair softly until he calmed down, or just be a presence in the room so he wouldn’t be alone. She never mentioned it the next morning, just treated him with the same compassion and patience that she always did. Jack loved her for that, even though he truly didn’t deserve it.

Then came the one night, where he hit his breaking point. He was falling in and out of sleep, each snippet of a nightmare progressively getting worse and worse. He would wake up before the nightmares could become unbearable, but the lack of sleep caught up to him, plunging into another night terror.

_ He was drowning in water as dark as tar. He didn’t know how far down he was, and he couldn’t see the surface. He kept swimming upwards, his lungs screaming for air that he couldn’t breathe in. His arms clawed through the water, trying to reach the surface. _

_ The tips of his fingers brushed against something cold. He reached for it, desperately grasping on, linking his fingers with what he now figured out was a hand. Was someone pulling him out? Would he be saved? _

_ He grasped on tightly to the hand, desperate for air. _

_ From what he could tell in the darkness, he wasn’t going up. He tugged whoever was attached to the hand further down. His hand drifted up the arm, feeling the familiar texture of leather sleeves.  _

_ His hands lowered, fingers threading through long locks of hair. The realization of who this figure was hit him. _

_ He had no breath left to scream, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins made him claw further upwards, leading him to break the surface. He choked in air and water, coughing, treading water as he surfaced in the middle of a lake. The water stretched as far as he could see. There was no moon in the sky. He could barely see a thing. _

_ He whipped around, hair slick against his forehead, seeing the outline of a lone fishing boat floating a couple of meters behind him. He gasped, swimming over to its side, using the last of his energy to hoist himself up and onto the boat. _

_ Soaking wet, he laid on the floor of the fishing boat, arms splayed by his sides as he panted. He was so tired. He wanted to get out of wherever he was. _

_ The sole lightbulb hanging in the boat’s cockpit switched on, illuminating Mason’s figure standing over him. _

_ “You look tired, Miles.” The man said, adjusting the elegant, unblemished suit he wore.  _

_ “Eat… shit…” He spat through heaving breaths, supporting himself on his elbows as he sat up. _

_ “Rose was a useful operative to me too, Miles. A shame you caused her death.” _

_ “I didn’t… cause anything.” He panted. _

_ “She saved you out of the goodness of her heart, Miles. You compromised her by returning because of your grudges.” _

_ He went silent, anger building up inside him. He was angry that Mason was here. He was angry that he sent an operative to kill Rose. However, deep down, he was furious that he was stating the truth. _

_ “That is similar to what compromised you in the first place, Miles. You get too attached to people. You felt personally betrayed by me when you were meant to be disposed of.” _

_ “Shut... the hell up.” _

_ “Don’t start me on the assassination of Mr. Reed. He was everything you could have been. An emotionless, professional, business-oriented operative. One who would face death if I ordered it.” _

_ “That little psychopath is nothing to me.” _

_ “Your facade is slipping, Miles. You envied him. You care too much about your comrades. And you know you were the cause of all their deaths.” _

_ He grits his teeth, fists clenched as he got up. Mason made no move to get out of his way. _

_ “You remember all their codenames, don’t you? The operatives that died due to your hand? I’ll start you off, Miles.” _

_ “Shut up.” _

_ “Magpie. Outlaw. Raptor. Sunhawk. Condor. Frostbite. Foxhound. Badger.”  _

_ He leaps at Mason, tackling him to the ground and wrapping his hands around the other man’s neck, choking him. He keeps naming names, no matter how hard he presses. _

_ “Glacier. Albatross. Eagle. Wendigo.”  _

_ At each name, the operatives’ bodies floated up in the water around the fishing boat. Tears streamed down his face as he kept shaking the man underneath him, hands clenching his neck. He screamed, barely drowning out the other’s voice. The scream of a familiar girl echoes in the background, but he ignores it. _

_ “Sparrow.” Mason lists off. _

_ “WHA- SOFIA MADE IT OUT OKAY! SHE’S STILL ALIVE! I DIDN’T KILL HER!” He yells, tears streaming down his cheeks. Mason smiles underneath his grasp. _

_ “Whatever you say, Jack Miles.” _

Jack opens his eyes, hunched over in the same manner that he was in the terror. He refuses to believe the sight.

Mason Wolfe is nowhere to be found. His hands are wrapped around the neck of someone else.

Wrapped around the neck of Sofia.

She’s still warm beneath him, tears fresh on her face. Her expression is frozen in terror, and her neatly painted nails dig into Jack’s forearms. Blood seeps out from underneath the marks she left.

He’s still, mind not fully processing what he sees. His eyes connect with her blue ones, now dull, lacking a sparkle to them that she always had.

“Sofia?” His voice cracks, gently lifting his hands from his neck. Prominent red marks are left where his fingers once were, and bleeding gashes mark where his nails dug into her skin.

She lays there, unmoving.

“SOFIA?” Jack shakes her back and forth, gripping onto her shoulders. Nothing happens.

“KIDDO!” Jack collapses over her, clutching the sweatshirt she wore, now stained with spots of blood.

He couldn’t believe it. He refused to believe it. 

He murdered Sofia Pearl.

A criminal like him was good for nothing else.


End file.
